Deserving
by chimere
Summary: My version of how Susan finally came home, because yes, I do believe that she did. Her thoughts, feelings, motivation and actions from her own point of view. What kind of a fate does she who was once the Gentle Queen deserve?
1. Lost

Disclaimer: everything in Narnia belongs to C.S. Lewis, some things possibly to Walt Disney Pictures, Walden Media, and 20th Century Fox. I'm just borrowing. Not making any money. Don't sue.

* * *

Chapter I

**Lost**

_By chimère_

_The soldier who was not a soldier any more sat on a low wall and looked out across the eastern sea. His crutches had been carelessly, or perhaps angrily, __thrown on the ground beside him._

_One who would be lame for the rest of his life could no longer serve in our army. My brothers, for all their understanding and respect and sorrow, could not make such an allowance, charged as they were with the protection of this land. The soldier who was not a soldier knew that, but it did not make the truth any less cold. My sister's compassion and attempts at cheer had failed just as my brothers' grave words of honour. They did not make the truth any less bitter._

_I did not know if I would have any success, but like my siblings, I had to try._

_That he barely made a token attempt at rising before I waved him down showed me how far he had fallen. Injured or not, our subjects almost always gave us the utmost respect, but his attitude bordered on resentment._

_I decided not to waste time on an introduction. "Good my lord, you can no longer serve us with your physical prowess," I stated the truth. His eyes hardened. "However, your _military_ prowess is only diminished in that one aspect," I continued, and he looked confused. "According to my brothers, you excel at strategy and tactical planning. Therefore, with the glad leave of my siblings, I would hereby appoint you to the War Council that could greatly benefit from your wisdom, and give you the added responsibility of helping our chief librarian organise and catalogue the old military maps that have been giving her no end of grief. Will you accept?"_

_His face crumpled in shock, shame at his behaviour, gratitude, and joy. He struggled to his feet and bowed deeply. There were tears in his eyes._

"_Thank you, Gentle Queen," he whispered._

* * *

Do you see why I hold that memory so dear? Perhaps not. To me, that small scene represents the beauty of our reign. It was my idea to give the broken soldier another purpose. I saw suffering, I thought of a way to help, I had the power to put that thought into action, and I could relieve the suffering. That day, I knew what it was to be Gentle and Queen.

And then it was taken away from me, from us, so abruptly and unceremoniously that it demeaned all the glory of the Golden Age.

Worse yet, I was allowed another glimpse of the land I had loved, changed and diminished and _alien_, no longer my home.

I couldn't bear it anymore and drew away.

My siblings thought I had forgotten, and well that they should, after all the effort I put into making them believe that. They did not understand. I could not blame them. And it hurt, the growing distance between us, almost as much as memories of Narnia.

How could I forget? I have kept them, the memory of the broken soldier and all the others. But I tried with all my strength to let them go, even as I knew it was futile. At least I succeeded in pushing the memories back into the farthest reaches of my mind, where they hurt a little less. I threw myself into parties and clothes and flirting, things I had liked before but now wanted to make into my entire world. They were the strongest painkillers I could find.

Peter, Edmund and Lucy thought that I no longer cared about Narnia. I know, though I haven't always admitted it, that I cared, and still do, too much. Not that I cared more than they did. The difference was that I was weaker.

I was too weak to bear the weight of my own love, and I let it turn into a feeling of betrayal, into bitterness, and finally, into haughty disdain for what I started to call 'children's stories'.

Unlike my siblings, I could not relinquish my role as a queen with grace – not in my heart –, or bear my exile from my home with fortitude and hope.

And although I kept my memories, I did lose something else. My faith. In Narnia, in Aslan, even in my family.

I betrayed Narnia. Instead of honouring it by remembering, like a queen should, I resented my home for welcoming us in only to throw us out again, for being so wonderful and yet out of reach.

I betrayed Aslan. I lost my trust in him when he sent us back to our own world, an act which I perceived to be cruel and like unto a player moving his pawns.

I betrayed my siblings. I pushed them away, I made Lucy cry and Edmund look at me with hurt and confusion and Peter sigh in disappointment and sorrow.

And I didn't even realise how wrong I was before it was too late.

I was weak. I _wanted_ to forget. I betrayed what I loved and denied what I believed and hurt my family only to save myself from pain. I was neither gentle nor queen nor truly a sister any more.

And so I deserve to be left behind, the last of my family, standing on the ashes.

Don't I?


	2. Found

Disclaimer: everything in Narnia belongs to C.S. Lewis, some things possibly to Walt Disney Pictures, Walden Media, and 20th Century Fox. The song "Dance 'Round the Memory Tree" was written by Oren Lavie. I'm just borrowing. Not making any money. Don't sue.

* * *

Chapter II

**Found**

_By chimère_

_Words we have said_

_Grew in my head_

_Coloured my thoughts_

_Sang me to bed_

What am I doing here?

The Professor's house is empty. The farmer who drove me here from Coombe halt told me as much. Of course, it would be, he is dead too. No one lives here, the windows are shuttered, the doors are locked, the estate is to be sold according to the farmer. But there is not even a sign out.

The house is empty. Just like me, and I feel a strange kinship with the old building. All either of us has are memories.

_Lost memories_

_Grew into trees_

_Covered the doors_

_Swallowed the keys_

I stare for a long time at the first floor window that for some reason seems to be slightly ajar. It could be reached easily enough climbing on the roof of the vine-overgrown porch.

_Come, Susan, where is your sense of adventure?_ Peter's teasing voice when I doubted that going to hunt the White Stag would be a good idea.

Will this adventure turn out any better? I don't know, but it hardly matters. I discard my high heels and climb.

The first floor hallway is dusty and painfully familiar. The doors of the rooms are not locked, peering through a few I find that some of the furniture and the Professor's books and paintings are gone. Have they been sold already? I walk slowly, remembering. At one point I am certain I can hear small feet running on the floor above my head, and I blink my eyes to clear them.

_Winters have come and gone_

_You know_

_Winters have come and gone_

_You know_

_But I'll meet you young and free_

_For a dance '__round the memory tree_

What am I supposed to do now? Go back to London? Live, work, party, marry, have children, grow old, die? Apparently that's what I'll have to do, although at the moment I'd rather skip the parts in between and go straight to dying.

I shake my head. Such thoughts are not like me. But what is, anymore?

Was that laughter upstairs? Am I going mad?

"What am I supposed to do now?" I ask aloud. "Tell me, Aslan." I don't have the energy for ridicule or cynicism or anger.

_What do you want to do, daughter?_

Did I imagine that?

"I want to see my family again," I answer, past caring about anything but that.

Silence. Of course I imagined it.

But _that_ is real. Suddenly two pairs of feet thunder down the stairs just a few feet from me and skid to a halt in the hallway. Two frightened pairs of eyes stare at me. A boy and a girl, both about the age Lucy was when we first stumbled into Narnia.

Perhaps I'm not going mad after all. The open window, the sounds of feet and laughter are explained all at once.

"Please don't tell on us," the boy blurts.

"We know we're not supposed to be here," the girl says a bit shakily. "But we haven't broken anything, and it's such a good place to play!"

"Are you going to buy the house?" the boy asks.

And I truly don't know why, of all the things I could say, the words I hear leaving my mouth are, "Come here."

They follow, confused and wary and curious, as I lead them just a few steps to the door of the room that gave our world a ridiculous name. The room I never wanted to see again, up until a few moments ago.

The Wardrobe is gone. What has happened to it? The room is completely empty. I sit down in a patch of sunlight on the dusty floor, not caring about my new skirt, and ask, "Would you like to hear a story?"

The children look at each other. Then the girl says, "Yes, please!" and the boy responds by just plopping down on the floor.

_Said I forgot_

_But I did not_

_Dreams we have had_

_Play in my head_

"When there were air raids on London, four children, two brothers and two sisters, were sent to this house, so they would be safe. The smallest of them, a girl named Lucy, once wandered into this very room and saw the Wardrobe..."

This way, I won't be the only one who knows. Even if they don't believe. Faith is such a strange thing, anyway. I don't know what I believe.

"The two eldest, Peter and Susan, couldn't believe their eyes when they saw the snowy woods. Their sister had been telling the truth all along..."

Maybe these two will get lucky and stumble into Narnia some day. Will you let them, Aslan? You were real, weren't you? Are you still? Can I believe in you? Will you let them come instead of me? They could... they could send my love to my brothers and sister.

_The Narnia you knew is no more, child._

I forget what I was going to say next.

"What's wrong?" the girl asks.

I give myself a little shake. "Nothing." I try to smile. "So, as I was saying, Edmund, who was resentful and angry at the way his siblings treated him, left without anyone noticing to find the castle of the one he thought was the Queen of Narnia..."

I never even realised until now that I had thought, or at least hoped, that my siblings would be in Narnia now. It would be paradise for them, the paradise they so richly deserved.

I would never have imagined the sudden certainty that Narnia is not only changed, but completely destroyed. Aslan? Are you really here? Is Narnia really... gone?

_Yes._

But then... what about Peter and Edmund and Lucy? Are they simply gone, too?

_No._ There is compassion in that single word.

Where are they? Are they safe? Are they happy?

_They are with me, daughter of Eve._

I don't know what I'm thinking or feeling anymore. Aslan, please. I don't know if I believe in you, but I would do anything for them to be... happy. And together. And in Narnia. They deserve it. They deserve our Golden Age in Narnia. Please.

_And you do not deserve it? Or do not want to deserve it?_

I don't know what the Lion, if it's really him, means. "At night, Lucy was woken by Aslan walking past the tent she shared with Susan. Lucy loved Aslan and had been worried for him ever since the White Witch had left..."

My audience is watching me with rapt eyes. The sunlight has moved from me to them, shining on their blond hair. Are they brother and sister?

"So Peter realised that he would have to lead the army, as his brother had said. He was only thirteen, but he accepted this responsibility..."

Let them be happy. Even if I will never see them again, let them be together and happy. I would do anything. Aslan, what do you want me to do?

"It was Edmund who saved Peter's life, attacking the Witch and destroying her wand. But the Witch stabbed him with the broken wand, and he would have died if it hadn't been for Lucy's cordial. So Edmund redeemed himself, and although he had started as a traitor, there was never a more faithful Narnian in the days to come..."

_You are lost, daughter._

"And the Four Sovereigns were crowned in the castle of Cair Paravel by Aslan himself."

"And then they ruled the country together?" the girl asks breathlessly.

"They ruled together for fifteen years. But then one day the four of them went hunting for a White Stag. And in the woods they suddenly found a lamppost. They had almost forgotten about it, but they remembered something, like a dream of a dream, and when they went to look around, they stumbled back through the same Wardrobe, and were children again."

_Did we believe_

_The cry of the leaves?_

_Did we regret?_

_Would we forget?_

Both the boy and the girl make a disappointed noise. "That's not fair!" the boy exclaims.

"Isn't it? Do you think the story would be just as beautiful if it did not have such an ending?"

"Yes!" they intone in unison.

I smile. "I thought so too, but now I'm not so sure. Maybe things are more beautiful if they're also a little sad."

The children are still looking at me with wide eyes. "That was the best story I've ever heard!" the boy says, and the girl nods enthusiastically.

My smile grows wider. "It's more than that, actually. But shouldn't the two of you be getting home now?"

They exchange a guilty look, but are still reluctant to get on their feet. I realise I don't know their names, and ask.

"Amy," says the girl, and "Michael," the boy.

"Amy and Michael, I won't tell anyone you were here," I assure them. "Now hurry home, or your parents will worry."

"We'll remember this story," Amy promises.

My smile is a little tremulous. "Good."

The door closes, and I am alone again in the room where it all began. Perhaps I should buy this estate. It suits better for entertaining children than hosting parties, but that doesn't bother me anymore.

_Winters have come and gone_

_You know_

_Winters have come and gone_

_You know_

_But I'__ll meet you young and free_

_For a dance '__round the memory tree_

And then I am finally forced to believe that I am no longer alone. The presence in the room is too much even for my stubbornness to ignore.

_Queen Susan the Gentle, do you want to be found?_

I am trembling.

"Yes," I whisper.


	3. Home

Disclaimer: everything in Narnia belongs to C.S. Lewis, some things possibly to Walt Disney Pictures, Walden Media, and 20th Century Fox. I'm just borrowing. Not making any money. Don't sue.

* * *

Chapter III

**Home**

_By chimère_

It is dark. I can feel cool air, hear nightly sounds, and the sky above my head is studded with stars so bright I know I am not on Earth anymore.

"Aslan?"

As the name passes my lips, I realise it is not quite dark. I can see the path before my feet, enough to walk without tripping. And somehow I know why it is I can see without a source of light at hand. I don't look to my side, but I extend my right arm and let out a breath as my hand meets a lion's mane. I curl my fingers in it and begin to walk, guided by him.

Aslan doesn't speak and I don't dare to. The path seems strangely familiar, but I cannot place it. I don't know where I am, I have no expectations, only – I am surprised to recognise it – hope. Hope that I will see my family again. I haven't truly realised how bleak everything has been without it.

The sky slowly grows lighter in what I suppose is east. And against the sky I can see a dark shape so achingly familiar that I suddenly understand why I recognised the path. Cair Paravel.

Aslan stops before the gate of the castle. It is still almost dark, but I can see his eyes clearly. "Welcome home, daughter."

At the soft, deep voice my legs suddenly go weak and I drop to my knees before the Lion. "Why?" is all I can think to ask. "I don't deserve this."

"You took the long path, Susan, but you have reached your destination. Through more pain than the others, but that was your choice. This is your home, where you are meant to be. Do not doubt it."

Aslan breathes on me, and I find myself clinging to him. He patiently lets me sob out all my guilt and hurt and regret. When I finally straighten, he says only, "Go now. They will be awake soon."

I stand on slightly unsteady legs and walk through the castle gate. Cair Paravel is just as I remember it, only without the sentries. This place is so much like Narnia, but apparently there is no need for weapons to guard our safety here.

I walk in a daze through the familiar corridors. I step on the threshold of the Great Hall and see my own throne in the light of the few lamps left burning, right there next to the others on the dais, and it's too much. I don't belong here anymore, I'm not a queen, I _spat_ on all of Narnia and nothing can make that right, and suddenly I'm deathly afraid of meeting my siblings.

I flee to the kitchens. I need to focus on doing something before I go mad, and the kitchens are definitely more my place than a throne room. So I start to make breakfast. The rising sun fills the room with rosy light, so beautiful I could weep.

Suddenly there is a gasp from the doorway and I look up to see Fendik, a dwarf cook from the time of our reign. I can only stare, my hands gripping a bowl and my eyes tearing up. The look of astonishment on his face incredibly melts into a smile and he bows deeply.

"Queen Susan, we have waited for you too long."

I helplessly try to gesture that I am the last person he should bow to, but suddenly he glances over his shoulder into the corridor, flashes me a grin and quickly steps out of the kitchens again.

I have no time to recollect myself before Edmund walks in. Seeing me, he stops short and sucks in a breath. This time, I drop the bowl, which shatters on the tiled floor. But I barely notice, as I feel I might faint.

My little brother, dressed in fine but casual clothes, not wearing his crown, but still every inch King Edmund the Just. Dark hair mussed up from sleeping and wide dark eyes staring into mine and oh Aslan, how I have missed him!

A small, inarticulate wail escapes my throat, but I dare not move closer to him. He will push me away, the sister who abandoned him, who ridiculed everything he holds dear, they will all push me away and they have every right to.

I have never appreciated until this moment how much courage it must have taken Edmund to walk up to us after he had been rescued from the Witch's camp. All I know is that I do not have such courage.

"Susan," Edmund suddenly rasps, his voice so familiar and strange at the same time. I have never heard him speak in quite such a tone before. And then he is in front of me and pulling me into a hug and I collapse against him, mumbling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

When he lets me go, there is a wide grin on his face and he doesn't even acknowledge my attempts at an apology. He darts back into the corridor and hollers, "Oi, Peter! Lucy! There's a really good reason to hurry up!"

My trembling only grows worse during the minute we wait the rest of our siblings to arrive. I can hear Lucy's skipping steps and Peter's good-natured teasing, "What's got you so wound up at this time of the morning, Ed? You're usually not even awake yet!" I sit on a kitchen stool in order not to collapse.

And then I hear two soft gasps before Lucy's elated cry "Susan!" As my beautiful, valiant, faithful little sister throws her arms around me, I finally begin to weep uncontrollably. She is crying, too, but even Lucy's tears have a quality of release and hope. I have only ever dimmed her joyful radiance, what right do I have to be held by her?

"I'm sorry," I repeat the inadequate words, finding nothing else to say.

"What are you sorry for, Susan?"

Peter. He is looking at me solemnly, blue eyes bright with tears. I remember the disappointment and tears of regret in those same eyes – I put them there. Right now, despite his display of emotion, I am half-crazed with my guilt and sorrow and I don't see my elder brother, but the High King of Narnia. I will confess my crimes and await his judgement.

"For being horrible," I whisper. "For pushing you all away. For denying what I knew was real, for wanting to forget Narnia and Aslan. For being neither a queen of Narnia nor your sister."

"But you're here now," Lucy pipes up immediately. Always so quick to forgive, dearest heart.

"You forgave me for worse," Edmund says easily.

I am still waiting for Peter's response, and I am shocked to hear it. "We're sorry for leaving you behind, Susan," he says seriously. "It cannot have been easy. And yet you still got here. Doing that, you've already made up for everything you talked about."

I shake my head dumbly.

"Stop it, Susan," Peter says, and there is a catch in his voice. "You're our sister. We've missed you."

With a small cry I throw myself into Peter's arms and I am not pushed away. Edmund and Lucy pile onto us and I suddenly laugh through my tears. I am home.


End file.
